Image of the Invisible
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Teen!Chester. Dean wakes up in a completely different house, with a woman and a little kid he doesn't know with no clue how he ended up there. What's worse, his father is acting as though everything is normal and Sammy...well, Sammy's gone.


**Chapter One**

Dean woke with a start, breathing heavily. He blearily looked around the motel room for a moment, before his sleep-addled brain realized that he was _not _in the motel room. He leapt from his – the – bed and stumbled from the messy black comforter that had wrapped itself around his legs.

Panicked, he backed up into a wall and knocked a bunch of framed records onto the hardwood floor, wincing when they shattered. Dean yelped and jumped to the side, tripping over a large amp and landed on a Fender electric guitar.

Dean shrieked, horrified at what he had managed to destroy in a matter of seconds. He stood perfectly still for a moment, looking around the room he was in. The walls were painted a light blue and covered with framed records and posters of Iron Maiden, Metallica, Black Sabbath (both Ozzy and Dio), and Motörhead. Off to the far side of the room were his – the – bed Dean had tussled with and an open closet with clothes spread over the floor. The guitar he had crushed, an amp and a small desk with a couple of open books sat took up the rest of the floor space.

Curious, Dean moved closer to the desk and looked over the titles: _Advanced Physics_, _Academic Chemistry_, and a very dirty copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_. On a sheet of lined paper titled 'Holden Caulfield Essay' were a series of doodles but nothing constructive had been written.

There was a light knock on the door to his – the – room. "Dean?" A woman's voice called, "I'm coming in, okay?"

The door opened and a blonde woman peeked inside from the hallway, "I heard a lot of noise in here, are you alright?" She asked.

Dean could have died right there. "What are you doing?! Get out! I'm only in my boxers!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Alright, well breakfast is ready. You better hurry before Adam eats it all." With that, she shut the door behind her and Dean could hear her walking down stairs.

He stood silently in the room for a minute and finally came to the decision that this was a dream and that he would go with the flow for now.

It took Dean about ten minutes to find something suitable to wear, and happily donned a black Metallica t-shirt and wrinkled jeans. He cautiously stepped out into the hallway and looked around. The walls were tastefully painted in soft beige and decorated with numerous family portraits, baby photos and picture-day photos. Dean laughed quietly to himself. He had never had a picture-day photo taken.

More interested in who that woman from earlier was, Dean started down the stairs without stopping to look at the photos. The long staircase flowed into a large living room filled with leather furniture, a fireplace, a TV and a giant aquarium tank full of oversized goldfish and Koi.

Dean followed the sounds of voices and the smell of bacon and walked into a kitchen with a breakfast nook where his father, the woman and a kid who looked to be six or seven were seated at an island table.

John looked up from the newspaper he was reading and smiled, "Morning, Dean."

Dean nodded in return and slowly slipped into the empty chair between the mysterious woman and his father. Immediately, the woman served Dean a large pile of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, sliced tomatoes and a couple pieces of sliced cheese. "Are you ready for your Physics test, Dean? Apple or orange juice?"

"Uh, test? And coffee, black," Dean replied.

John raised an eyebrow and shrugged, pushing a mug to Dean, followed by the coffee pot.

No one spoke for several minutes and Dean couldn't help but cast confused glances at his father every couple of seconds. He couldn't figure out who these people were, or why they were there for that matter. But there was one more problem with the whole set-up Dean was in.

"Dad, where's Sammy?" Dean asked suddenly.

John spluttered into his coffee and coughed loudly, trying to clear his lungs of the burning liquid. When he could finally breathe again he looked at Dean, setting aside his newspaper, "Dean, are you feeling alright? You haven't mentioned Sam in years."

Dean was confused, "Why not? Why wouldn't I talk about him?"

Clearing his throat, John peered directly at his boy, "Because Sam was the name of your imaginary friend."

Dean furrowed his brows, "Imaginary friend? No, I meant Sam- you know, my brother- pipsqueak, crappy haircut, annoying. Any of this ringing a bell?"

John sighed and stood up from the table, motioning for his eldest son to follow him. John led Dean out into the living room and sat down in one of the comfortable leather chairs. He knotted his hands together and leaned forwards, staring Dean in the eyes. "Now, Dean. I know it's been hard, God knows I'm aware of how hard it's been, but Sam died in the fire thirteen years ago."

Dean shook his head, "No. _No_. We managed to get him out but you were too late for Mom. Dad, Sam _lived_."

"Dean, please listen to me. Sam and Mary both died in that electrical fire," John answered; his voice thick with emotion.

Dean couldn't believe this. If this was a dream then he wanted to wake up immediately. A world without Sam? That wasn't possible.

"What are you talking about? That's not true! Who's that kid? Who's that woman?! Tell me what's going on!"

"Maybe you should take today off from school, I mean tomorrow is the anniversary…" John started but found he couldn't finish.

Dean stood up, his heart pounding. "No, no. That's alright. I'll go to school. I'm fine," Dean assured his father even as he began backing away from him.

Dean decided that it was safer if he skipped returning to the breakfast table and made his way up to his – the – bedroom. He closed the door quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself and sat down on the bed, staring blankly at the bands' posters on the walls.

Taking several deep breaths, Dean attempted to steady himself. His father may have forgotten Sam, he may be living with some strange woman in some strange house with some strange little kid who was definitely _not _his little brother but that could be just a witch's spell… or something. If there was one thing Dean was sure of without a doubt, it was that Sam was alive. Of course, there was one other thing Dean could safely assume; it was that if both John and himself weren't with Sam it's that the youngest Winchester was probably in danger.

**Author's Note:**

**Fanfic title comes from a song by Thrice.**

**Chapter written by BerserkerHellhound and edited by AlElizabeth.**

**Please take a moment to leave a review.**


End file.
